Beyond Expectation
by SuperMegaFoxyAwesomeHot
Summary: mafia/soulmate AU. Full prompt inside.


**Full prompt:** **mafia/soulmate klaine. Kurt works at the lima bean, which was just bought by the Anderson family. Kurt hates the family since they're the local mafia. Blaine's name is on Kurt, doesn't matter where, and has no idea his new boss is also his soulmate.**

* * *

"I'm going to quit, I'm going to _quit_ , I swear to _God_ I'm going to _quit_."

"What's got your panties in a bunch this time, Hummel? Customer pay for their six dollar latte entirely in change?" Santana asked as she walked into the storage room, tying her apron around her waist.

"Oh, ha ha," Kurt said snidely, unamused as ever by Santana's remarks about his 'prissiness' - her word, not his. "No, Santana, for once it's actually something you might consider a _real_ grievance."

"That bitch came back and demanded we give her a free drink for 'loyalty' again? I'll-"

"The Andersons bought the Lima Bean," Kurt interrupted before she could build up a head of steam.

"What?" Santana said, genuinely surprised for once.

"The Andersons. Bought. The Lima Bean," Kurt repeated, enunciating each part of the sentence sharply. "We're now officially employed by the local mafia."

"Are you kidding? This is great news," Santana said. "None of the riffraff here will dare to tell us off for making their iced coffee too cold once word trickles out."

"This is the exact opposite of great news, Santana!" Kurt said, voice getting a little too high-pitched for him to claim he was fully in control of his emotions at that moment. "Now whenever someone comes in for coffee, I'm going to wonder if the hardness in their eyes is from lack of caffeine or _recently killing a man._ "

"Okay, there's no proof our mafia has ever actually had anyone whacked," Santana said, rolling her eyes. "I mean, not that that means anything, but still. And anyways, we've probably already had a murderer come through here, honestly. You've seen the nasty-ass truckers we get - at least one of them has to have a corpse in their cargo."

"Not _helping_ ," Kurt hissed, remembering the dead-eyed, unkempt man who'd come in a couple days ago and spoken more in grunts than actual words.

"Buck up, pretty pony," Santana said, clapping Kurt hard on the back. "You know the mafiosos won't exactly come in here screaming their names if they want to stay out of prison. All the customers you serve will still be referred to solely by the demeaning nicknames we give them."

"But what about…?" Kurt trailed off there, wrapping a hand protectively around the back side of his right hip.

"I've told you like eight million times, Kurt, Anderson is a common last name," Santana said, a little gentler. "That doesn't mean your soulmate's connected with our local mafia."

"You'd better be right," Kurt grumbled, trying to hide his moment of vulnerability. "I just can't shake the feeling that he's getting closer, though."

"When have I ever been wrong?" Santana asked cockily.

"When you swore letting Brittany stay in the seating area while we closed wouldn't distract you. When you shortchanged that dude after doing some faulty mental math that time the register broke. When you - _ack!_ Stop!"

Kurt had to break off his listing as Santana started thwacking him with one of the dirty dishrags from the industrial sink.

* * *

Three days later, Kurt and Santana were welcomed to work by their boss grabbing them by the arms and dragging them into the storage room.

"Our new owner is coming in at some point today," Sue hissed, keeping a wary eye on the scant amount of counter space they could see from the small windows in the doors. "I don't know when, and I'm not entirely sure what he looks like, so you two had better behave in front of all of the customers or I will _personally_ slit your throats and chuck you in the Dumpster at close."

She stalked off at that, leaving Kurt and Santana to exchange a mildly panicked look before tying on their aprons (Kurt's name tag clattered to the ground in his haste, prompting him to just kick it under the sink rather than waste time retrieving it) and hustling to the floor.

"And you're scared of the mafia?" Santana muttered out the side of her mouth. "Sue makes them look like babies wielding plastic spoons in comparison."

Kurt let out a quiet snort before taking over for Quinn at the register, smiling and launching into his standard greetings with a little more pep than usual in case Sue was watching. Before long, though, he fell back into his more reserved - yet still vaguely friendly, he hoped - work persona, only reinvigorating when he noticed a cute, well-dressed man enter the building.

 _Reinvigorating_ maybe wasn't quite the right word, though - Kurt felt his energy perk back up, yes, but he also had the odd sensation that time was slowing down around him, as if the only real people in the Bean were himself and this man.

"What can I do for you today?" Kurt breathed once the man reached the counter. He took in the man's dark, gelled down hair and big hazel eyes and had to remind himself that breathing was a thing he needed to continue doing if he wanted to prolong his time with this man.

"A medium drip?" the man replied, looking just as dazed as Kurt felt.

"Coming right up." Kurt marked up the cup for Santana and took the man's money, shivering as their hands brushed. He took a moment to reconnoiter as Santana started prepping the man's drink, grateful that no one else was in line at the moment.

A murmured curse drew his attention to Santana, who was glaring at their coffee carafe.

"We've gotta brew a new pot. Can you grab the filters while I get the beans? They're too da - _dang_ high up for me," she said, cutting her eyes at the man to acknowledge the reason for her vocal slip-up before walking into the storage room.

Kurt just nodded and walked over to the cabinets where they kept the coffee filters, one of the few items they could store overhead without fear of concussing someone should they fall out one day. As he turned his back on the pick-up area to reach a new filter, he felt his shirt untuck from his waistband and ride up, eliciting a gasp from the man.

"What-" Kurt began, spinning slowly to face him.

"What's your name?" the man interrupted, looking wildly hopeful.

"Kurt. Kurt Hummel." Kurt wasn't sure why he gave his last name, but it felt necessary - something in his gut was telling him it was the right thing to do.

"Oh my God, that's - I'm Blaine," the man - Blaine - said. "Blaine Anderson."

Kurt's hand instantly wrapped over his soulmate mark, bare skin beneath his palm. "You're - oh my God."

"I've been looking for you forever," Blaine said, eyes watery. "Could you - please, I'd like to be closer-"

"Yeah. Yeah," Kurt said, matching tears welling up in his own eyes. He quickly ditched his apron on the counter and darted out the swinging doors at the end of the bar, practically tackling Blaine once they were within arm's reach of each other. For a moment, they simply held onto one another silently, Kurt's face buried in Blaine's hair and Blaine's head tucked carefully into Kurt's neck, but Kurt found himself kissing Blaine a moment later with no memory of how they'd gotten there.

He wasn't complaining, though. Kissing Blaine felt like coming home after a long day, like a ball of tension he carried unknowingly in his chest was now loosening for good, like fireworks all over his skin.

Unfortunately, that sense of goodness dissipated immediately when he heard Sue emerge from her office and screech, "Hummel! What the hell possessed you to start sucking face with our new boss?"

* * *

Fifteen minutes later, Kurt was safely ensconced in the passenger seat of Blaine's car and staring awkwardly down at his hands.

"So," he began, not sure how to start the conversation he knew they needed to have.

"I swear I'm not some kind of Christian Grey type," Blaine said rapidly. "I didn't know you worked here when my parents bought the place. They just told me I needed somewhere 'safe' to get coffee after all the places in Westerville got bought out by other mafia families, and the Lima Bean was the easiest to procure."

"Wait, your parents bought it? Then why are you the one in charge?" Kurt asked, confused.

"They think if they give me an in, I'll suddenly fall in love with the family business and not want to move anymore," Blaine said. There was an undertone of bitterness in his voice. "Because every little boy dreams of threatening people into doing his bidding when he grows up."

Kurt reached out tentatively and took Blaine's hand where it rested on the center console. "You want to move?"

"Ever since I found my first Broadway bootleg online, I've wanted to go to New York. I even got into NYU, although my parents made me defer for a year just to make sure I really wasn't into taking over Dad's empire," Blaine said, gently squeezing Kurt's hand.

"Me too," Kurt said. "I mean, not the mafia part, obviously, but it's always been my dream to go to New York as well. I was actually planning on leaving this fall, now that I've saved up enough tip money for a few months' rent."

"Is that something you might want to do...together?" Blaine asked, looking hesitant.

"I'll admit that I was terrified when Sue showed us that picture of you she found on Google," Kurt said, holding Blaine's hand tighter when he tried to move away. "But I don't know...I trust you, Blaine. Maybe it's because we're soulmates, maybe it's not, but I believe that you're not some scary mobster who's only looking for a human sex toy. I want to get to know you better."

"And if that goes well?" Blaine said, eyes sparkling with renewed hope.

"Then I'm going to have to rethink a lot of my potential design schemes for the fall. Some of the tones I chose just wouldn't go with your coloring," Kurt replied playfully.

He would have continued, but he found himself being yanked toward the center console so Blaine could plant another firm kiss on him. He wasn't too disappointed by this turn of events.


End file.
